


2 O'Clock

by Medie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Fall Fandom Free For All, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not sure, really, how to explain it to him. How to say it's not the trauma of battle that evokes these reactions in her, but quite the opposite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 O'Clock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noveltea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noveltea/gifts).



> cis-gender-change AU. Written for [](http://noveltea.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**noveltea**](http://noveltea.dreamwidth.org/) for the [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/489753.html)

She wakes up screaming. Been years since she's done that and she'd only done it the once. Well, twice. All right, she'd done it quite enough and that's all she cares to think on the matter. That and it's a mercy her romantic prospects had been nonexistent upon her return to London; screaming not involving orgasms is always so terribly awkward to explain at two am.

Except, that's not quite the case this time. She wakes from the pale light of the Afghan winter sun, a hoarse cry caught in her throat, and a tentative hand upon her shoulder.

Jen wrenches herself free on instinct, her shoulder screaming in protest, hurtling from the bed to throw herself upright against the wall. There's a voice, rough, naked with fear and she _knows_ it, she does, and it's not Moran. It--oh, _christ_. "Greg."

The hand she passes over her face is trembling and she curses the weakness. She'd not meant for him to see any of this, she'd promised herself, and trust Sherlock's mad pursuit of James bloody Moriarty to roust it all back out again.

"I'm fine," she says, and mostly means it.

"Hell you are." Greg approaches carefully, hands out, and she supposes she should take it as compliment he thinks her that much of a threat. Except, of course, it's not that and she's angrier than she cares to admit at the idea she might need 'handling'. "Woke up half the city with that one."

She looks down at the floor despite herself. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure." She's had just the one other night like this since her release from hospital, after the explosion and the pool, and if Sherlock had noticed, he'd hardly given any sign. "The walls are surprisingly--" thin. She makes a face and glares when she realizes he's almost smiling. "Right, I'm shit at lying, but you might at least _pretend_ to be convinced."

Greg chuckles and lays gentle hands on her shoulders. "Remind me in the morning, yeah? I'll put on a good show of it then."

She leans her head against the wall. "Hell you will."

"Right, true, but we're telling ourselves half-truths at present, aren't we? Thought I might as well get in on the fun." He leans forward to kiss her temple, then her cheek, then asks, "Him again?" as his breath feathers over her skin.

"Just my luck," she says, sighing. "Sherlock's grand nemesis turns out to hire mine." She's never thought herself to be the sort to have nemeses, but then again, she's never thought herself to be the sort to go running around London after a mad genius either. "I'm going to kill him, you know."

"Right," Greg manages a smile, "Just going to pretend I didn't hear that."

Jen closes her eyes. "Yes, I think that would likely be best." She is going to kill Moran. Whether it's protecting Sherlock's neck or just vengeance for the dozens of dead Moran's left in his wake is something Jen particularly cares about. Moran is going to die and she'll be the one to do it.

"Protecting Sherlock, I should think," she says, belatedly, hoping to appease the Inspector lurking somewhere behind Greg's concerned eyes. He's mostly good about leaving Lestrade at the bedroom door, but not always and she's learning to all sorts of creative dances to keep Sherlock's more questionable cases out of his reach. She's gotten alarmingly good and all credit goes to the brothers Holmes. If it's not Sherlock she's lying for, then Mycroft's stuck his umbrella into things and, right, she's doing it again.

Jen shakes her head and smiles at the still-worried Greg. "Seems it's not all quite settled in here yet," she says, tapping her temple. "I solemnly swear not to run round London, gun in hand, on a mad hunt for Sebastian Moran's hide."

"Best not promise things like that," he says with a smile. "Sherlock has a way of talking you round to things."

Not that much talking's ever been needed. She shot a man their first time out. Right, no, she _killed_ a man their first time out. Yes, not much talking required. It's a wonder she wakes up screaming at all, really, and she supposes she should count it a boon that she still does.

Greg's thumb traces the raised, ruined flesh of her scar in absent fashion and it's more distracting than it ought to be, but she lets herself fall victim to it. Lets the easy touch sooth the nerves still dancing wildly beneath her skin. "I'd suggest talking to someone about this, but I imagine that's all been done before."

"Yes, to death in fact," she says. There's only the slightest feeling of guilt. She's not sure, really, how to explain it to him. How to say it's not the trauma of battle that evokes these reactions in her, but quite the opposite. Her lingering injuries and her flatmate's guilt have kept her away from Sherlock's side in the pursuit of Moriarty and she misses it.

She falls apart without it and there's no way to explain that to anyone.

"I'll sort it out again soon enough," she says, and tucks her head beneath his chin. A bit of theatre, but it works quite well as his arms close around her and his lips press into her hair. Works as much on her as it does him, in truth.

Jen sighs and shuts her eyes.


End file.
